


contact

by Bloodsbane



Series: tangled weeds in concrete cracks [7]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon Asexual Character, Degradation, Dom/sub, F/M, Groping, Humor, Multi, Slut Shaming, Texting, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Vaginal Fingering, aroace Daisy, nonromantic jondaisy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-22 04:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30032703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/pseuds/Bloodsbane
Summary: Jon goes off on his work-mandated trip with Martin. He and Daisy keep in touch, though.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims (minor/background)
Series: tangled weeds in concrete cracks [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898941
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Super glad to finally be posting this installment! The fic got long enough that I'll be breaking it up into two chapters. Big special thanks to Silver for beta-reading~
> 
> There are two scenes in this fic, not including Jon, but two original characters who are other subs of Daisy's. I'd recommend checking the CWs since the way they engage in kink/sex with Daisy is pretty different from her dynamic with Jon. So yeah, content warnings in the end notes!

**Daisy:** leaving now, be there in 15

 **Jon:** Okay. Thank you again for driving me. 

Daisy sees the text light up her phone, but doesn’t bother answering, keeping her eyes on the road as she makes her way to Jon’s place. 

He’s waiting for her outside his flat, a small suitcase at his feet. He looks a little miserable, huddled up in a scarf, glaring at his phone, one hand un-gloved so he can type something. It doesn’t take him but a second to realize Daisy’s pulling up, though, and so he hastily shoves his phone back into his coat pocket. 

Daisy pops the trunk so he can put his suitcase inside, then waits for him to join her in the front. For a brief moment, he lets in the sounds of Friday morning — honking car horns, birds, chatter. Then Jon slams the door closed and it’s just the two of them. 

“Got an address for me?” Daisy asks, shifting out of park while Jon clicks his seatbelt on.

“I do, I’ll pull it up on your phone.”

“Or you could just tell me.” 

Jon does tell her, but still puts it into an app on her phone, pulling up the map so it’ll read out the directions. Daisy heads off. Turns out Martin Blackwood doesn’t live too far from Jon — makes sense, Daisy supposes, given they both commute to work. 

As they crawl off the main road and into the residential area, Jon says, “Thank you again, Daisy.”

“I said it was fine.”

“Yes, well.”

“Are you nervous?” Daisy asks, casting a sly smirk over at her passenger. Jon doesn’t catch it with his eyes, but he visibly bristles at Daisy’s tone. “A whole weekend with loverboy…”

“Don’t- Don’t call him that,” Jon grumbles. 

“Oh, right, you would be the loverboy in this scenario, right?”

“I’m not-”

“I’m just teasing.” 

“You’re being an ass,” Jon grouses, but there’s no real anger or anything in it. Mostly he sounds like he’s pouting. 

Daisy finds a parking spot in the lot where the app told her to go, then turns the directions off and waits with Jon as he texts Martin. “Lighten up. Maybe you’ll have fun.”

“I’m being forced by my boss to suffer an extended weekend trip with my most troublesome assistant,” Jon says. “Not to mention that the same assistant is one that I- That I…”

“Have an embarrassing crush on?”

“Oh, be quiet.” 

Daisy grins at this. “Really think it’s a good idea to get mouthy with me right now, Sims? No one else in this parking lot that I can see.”

It’s just more teasing — she doesn’t mean anything by it. Still, it’s gratifying to see the way Jon’s lips purse and his shoulders tense, the tell-tale way his fingers twitch as he fidgets in his spot. He lets out a little huff and Daisy can’t help but laugh deep in her chest. “You’re hopeless,” she tells him. Then, without thinking too much of it, “I’ll miss you this weekend.” 

At this, Jon looks back at her with a surprised expression. “What?”

“I mean,” Daisy starts, then stops. She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I do have one thing planned for tonight, but after that? Not much really. Got off easy with work, too, next couple days off.” 

“That’s nice,” Jon says, and almost sounds like he means it. But mostly he sounds distracted, staring off through the front car window. All of a sudden, his body language shifts back to clear anxiety. “Ah, there he is.”

“Right,” Daisy says, then pops the trunk and swiftly steps out of the car. She hears Jon sputter for just a moment before the door is shut behind her. 

He tries to take the suitcase from her when he finally climbs out, but Daisy just slams the trunk closed and tucks the luggage under her arm. “Let’s not keep your friend waiting,” she tells him, smiling at Jon’s look of defeat. After a second of hesitance, he finally shakes his head in displeasure and turns away from her, heading for Martin.

Martin is taller than Daisy had been imagining. Jon’s only described him once, and mostly it was to say that he’s clumsy and wears a lot of ‘silly jumpers’. He seems to be dressed normally enough to Daisy, a thin turtleneck beneath a warmer jacket. He’s only a few inches shorter than Daisy, though her height advantage clearly catches him off guard. He’s staring pretty obviously as they approach. “O-oh, hi Jon. Um, who is…?”

“This is my- this is Daisy,” Jon answers, fumbling his words a bit. Daisy resists the urge to snicker. “She just, uh, was helping me. Drove me over.” 

“Ah. You know I could have picked you up, Jon, I don’t mind-”

“Daisy already knows my address,” Jon says with a dismissive wave of one hand, as if that makes any actual sense. Martin casts a helpless look back at Daisy, who merely shrugs. 

She puts Jon’s suitcase on the ground, then extends a hand. “Daisy Tonner,” she tells him. 

“Martin Blackwood; pleased to meet you.” He shakes her hand with an easy, nervous grip. Daisy doesn’t mess around with him, just pulls back and shoves both hands into her pockets. 

“I’m off, then,” she says. Then, with a wink to Jon, she adds, “Got a date tonight. See you later, Sims.”

Jon looks back at her like he doesn’t want her to leave. But his tone comes off as churlish when he answers, “Have fun.” 

* * *

**Jon:** Daisy.

 **Daisy:** jon

 **Jon:** This car ride is very awkward.

 **Daisy:** oh boy i bet it is

 **Jon:** You’re not being very helpful.

 **Daisy:** wasn’t aware being helpful and texting you in times of crisis was in the negotiation contract

 **Jon:** We don’t have a contract! 

**Daisy:** then i guess you cant complain. what’s up? it’s just driving. you two have hardly been gone for an hour yet.

 **Jon:** The drive is three hours and we’ve barely said anything since we left.

 **Daisy:** thought you’d prefer a setup like that.

 **Jon:** Well I don’t! It’s boring, and my phone is going to die very quickly if I keep looking at it, and Martin doesn’t have anything in his car to assist should that problem arise. I didn’t think to bring a book with me, either. 

**Daisy:** has he tried talking to you?

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Daisy:** he tried talking and you ruined it, didn’t you

 **Jon:** No! I simply did not respond how I’m sure he was expecting, so the conversation died down.

 **Daisy:** and how’s that? like someone who knows how to hold a pleasant conversation with his coworker?

 **Jon:** You really are no help at all.

 **Daisy:** then maybe stop talking to me and talk to him. you’ve got two whole hours ahead of you, jon. have fun. good luck. 

_(Jon is typing…)_

_(...)_

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Jon:** When you said you had a date tonight, did you mean an actual date?

 **Daisy:** nosey 

**Daisy:** im just meeting another sub tonight

 **Jon:** Which one?

 **Daisy:** nosey!

 **Jon:** I am not! If it’s confidential, don’t tell me.

 **Daisy:** i think i did mention her once before. the nun girl?

 **Jon:** Oh, I see. 

**Daisy:** look, i’ve got to go. text me when the two of you reach the hotel. or if you manage to exchange more than five words at a time. whichever comes first. 

**Jon:** Ha ha.

* * *

Once a month — sometimes twice — Daisy meets a woman named Serenity. At least, that’s the name she gave Daisy when they first made this arrangement of theirs. 

Visiting Serenity is extremely routine. Usually she’ll text Daisy a few days in advance, wanting to meet. It’s always on a Friday, usually afternoon, sometimes evening, but never at a time that could be considered late. Daisy doesn’t have to bring anything, just her humble flesh and bones. Once at the door to Serenity’s flat, she knocks and waits. 

Serenity is a tall girl, with an ample chest and what others might call ‘child-bearing hips’. She’s always dressed very modestly, usually in bland cardigans over long, heavy dresses. 

Her long, dark brown hair is swept over one shoulder. With a shy look, she tucks a stray lock behind her ear and nods to Daisy. “Good afternoon.” 

“Hello, Serenity. Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” 

Serenity lets her in, leads her to the couch. Excuses herself and flees into the bedroom. 

Daisy’s job here is pretty easy, honestly. It’s routine, and as fun and _interesting_ as Jon’s unexpected moods can be, there’s something reassuring about knowing what she’s in for. It’s nice, for Daisy, to know exactly how she’s meant to behave. 

After a while, Serenity returns. The cardigan and dress are gone, replaced with a nun’s habit. 

“Hello, Sister,” Daisy says. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” Serenity tells her. She’s already got the breathy quality to her voice, though she tries to hide it. Maybe Daisy wouldn’t notice, if she wasn’t the one causing it. “How can I help you today, miss?”

“Shoes off,” Daisy tells her, and soon the nun is at her knees, dutifully unlacing Daisy’s shoes.

The next half hour goes like that. Daisy asks for a snack and receives it. She instructs Serenity to open the curtains, but leave the blinds, to let in some light. Daisy turns on the telly and pretends to watch some drama while Serenity carries out her idle commands — clean this, do that. 

At some point in the middle of this, Daisy receives a text. Usually she’d turn her phone off or ignore new messages if she’s in the middle of a scene, but given part of the point of the scene is her doing as she pleases, regardless of Serenity’s presence, Daisy doesn’t mind checking. 

**Jon:** Daisy. I’m in a bit of a predicament. 

**Daisy:** what’s up

 **Jon:** In Elias’ typically neglectful fashion, it appears he’s misbooked our hotel room. There aren’t two beds available, only one, and Martin insists we share it.

Daisy raises a brow at this. She glances at Serenity, currently washing dishes, before focusing more on her phone. 

**Daisy:** did he really? that’s forward of him

 **Jon:** I wouldn’t describe his insistence as being forward, it’s mere stubbornness! I told him it would be fine if I slept on the chair, but he wouldn’t even consider it. 

**Daisy:** wait, there’s not a couch or anything, just a chair? you were going to sleep in a chair?

 **Jon:** I was, but Martin wouldn’t let me.

 **Daisy:** well i imagine he didn’t want to wake up to a boss who’d permanently become a pretzel overnight

 **Daisy:** is it too hard for you to share a bed with another guy like an adult?

 **Jon:** Daisy!!

 **Jon:** That is exactly what Martin said.

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Jon:** >:(

Daisy snickers behind her knuckles and shakes her head before continuing to type.

 **Daisy:** sounds like blackwood’s got sense then

 **Daisy:** look jon, i’m in the middle of that date, so i’ve got to go. you’ll be fine; im sure blackwood will keep his hands to himself. just try not to hump him in the middle of the night. that’s my advice

Jon attempts to type something back, but soon the bubble is gone for good, and Daisy tucks her phone away. Glancing at the clock, she decides now was as good a time as any to start wrapping things up. “Sister.”

“Y-yes, ma’am?” 

“Finish what you’re doing and come here.”

Serenity flies through the rest of the dishes, then approaches Daisy with false ease. Her hands are already starting to tremble. “Yes?” 

“You’ve done well for me today.”

“Thank you...”

“Yeah. But it’s unfortunate… I know, no matter how much good you do, it won’t ever be enough. You know that too, don’t you Sister?”

Serenity blushes with shame and excitement. Unsubtly, her thighs begin to rub against one another beneath her long habit. “I- I’m, um, I’m s-sorry miss, I’m not sure-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Daisy warns her, letting her voice grow dark. Serenity immediately turns quiet and still. Daisy leans back on the couch and says, “Stand in front of me. I think you have something to confess, Sister.”

“I…”

“You’re going to disobey me?”

“No, no, miss.” Slowly, Serenity comes to stand directly in front of Daisy. One step closer and their knees would touch. 

Daisy gives her a once over, letting her eyes move slowly over every inch of her body. She knows Serenity feels it because the woman is having a hell of a time staying still. If her hands weren’t fidgeting, then her skirt would begin to quiver, or her shoulders tensed and relaxed with clear restlessness. 

“Take your skirt in your hands,” Daisy tells her, “and lift it up.”

“What?” Serenity gasps. She plays her part well — the indignance and surprise almost seems believable. Maybe it would be if Daisy wasn’t so used to all this. 

“I know you’re a liar,” Daisy explains evenly. “I want to see what you’re hiding under there. Do as you’re told, Sister.” 

“I…” With performed reluctance, Serenity follows the order.

Daisy knows exactly what she’ll find underneath, though the new color is a surprise. The lacy stockings and garters are a soothing shade of light blue, maybe closer to green. They’re highlighted with white trim. The panties are a similar color, and Daisy knows the bra must be, too. It’s a nice set, and Daisy makes a mental note to be extra careful not to tear anything. 

“Look at you,” she says, letting her tone take on something like contempt. “You’re filthy.”

“I’m, I’m sorry, miss-”

“You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you would have never even considered wearing something as shameful as this. Do you know who would wear things like this? A slut, that’s who. Is that what you really are, Sister, a little slut who hides skimpy underwear beneath her habit?”

Serenity uses the skirt of the habit, clenched tightly in her hands, to hide her face. Daisy can see the wet spot on her panties very easily, given how delicate the material looks. She can’t help reaching out a hand just to feel it. It’s as soft and smooth as she anticipated. Serenity, clearly surprised by the touch, lets out a squeaky sound. “M-miss!?” 

“I knew it,” Daisy sighs, all weary disappointment, and pulls her hand away. “It’s too late for you, Sister. You’re little more than a whore, trying to smuggle herself into salvation.” 

“No!” Serenity lets the habit drop, pressing her trembling hands to her ample bosom in protestation. “I can be better! I’m- I can still be good, I promise! I’ll do whatever you want, please, I promise-”

“You’re not good for much anymore,” Daisy snaps, cutting her off. “You’ve sullied yourself, and now everything you touch will be just as filthy as you. No, Sister, you must confess and admit to your failure.” 

“B-but…” 

“Sit in my lap,” Daisy tells her, spreading her legs apart. “I’ll help you.” 

With teary eyes, Serenity turns around and follows Daisy’s direction. She sits down between the woman’s knees, the softness of her ass held securely between Daisy’s thighs. Daisy can feel how hard her sub is breathing, can see the anticipation in her rigid spine and shoulders. 

“There can be no hope of saving your pitiful soul if you cannot first admit that you’ve sinned,” Daisy tells her. The words are easy, well-rehearsed at this point. She’s never been an especially religious person, but you don’t have to be religious to know the rhetoric and how to use it against others. “So I’ll help you admit it to yourself first. Pull up your habit.”

This time, Serenity doesn’t waste time pretending to resist. She does what she’s told. When Daisy’s hand sneaks between her legs, finding that damp spot once more, Serenity whimpers, but she does not protest. 

What comes next is, to Daisy’s standards, relatively tame. But it’s a lot for Serenity, no matter the fact they’ve done it dozens of times. Once Daisy’s hands breach the unspoken boundary of those panties, Serenity’s chest begins heaving. Daisy snakes her free arm around to invade the habit, roughly shoving her hand up until it finds the lacey texture of the bra. Serenity gasps and whines as Daisy forces her hand beneath the fabric to grope at one breast. 

“Listen to you,” Daisy hisses into the woman’s ear. One hand dips into wetness while the other pinches a nipple. “Only a whore could make sounds like these.” 

“N-n… I…”

Serenity doesn’t get much chance to protest before Daisy’s fingers are inside her. Each minute supplies more desperate sounds, more evidence. Soon enough, there’s no fight left in Serenity, who presses back against Daisy and desperately rocks her hips, chasing her pleasure. 

“Say it,” Daisy growls into her ear.

“I- I- I’m- I’m a whore!” Serenity replies, barely managing to get the words out between her gasps. “I’m a slut, I know I’m dirty, I’m f-filthy…!”

“That’s right. Now take what you’ve earned.” 

It doesn’t take long after that. Serenity makes a broken, wanton cry as she comes, and Daisy holds her until the trembling slowly eases. Then, as quickly as Serenity’s body will allow, they pull apart from each other and go their separate ways. Serenity retreats in to her bedroom while Daisy washes her hands in the — now perfectly clean — kitchen sink. 

If Serenity had it her way, Daisy would be out the door before she emerged from her bedroom. However, Daisy refused to leave after a scene like that, so they’ve come to a compromise: Serenity gets to wind down alone for a bit, clean up and take some time to collect herself, but after that she has to come back out and let Daisy give her a massage while they confirm future plans. 

Daisy’s not really very good at giving massages — she tends to dig in too hard, chasing knots in muscles with a vengeance. Jon has complained on more than one occasion, claiming massages are supposed to be _relaxing_ , Daisy, not make him hurt more than before she got his hands on him. Serenity seems not to mind the roughness so much as its necessity, along with Daisy’s continued presence. 

It’s nothing to take personally. It’s just what they have to do. Daisy sits on the couch (not in the same spot) with Serenity between her knees (on the floor this time, cross-legged instead of kneeling), pressing her thumbs into the shoulders of the woman supplying clipped, monosyllabic answers to Daisy’s questions. 

She’s not cold, exactly. Daisy thinks it’s just embarrassment, and maybe some odd, misplaced resentment that Serenity knows isn’t fair. Daisy figures it’s easier to deal with the emotions that come from a scene like that when the person who helped facilitate it isn’t around.

So soon enough, after a brief and bland farewell, Daisy is out the door again. 

* * *

**Jon:** Are you still awake?

 **Daisy:** yeah im up. how are things going?

 **Jon:** Well enough I suppose. Martin is out at the moment. He’s been out for a few hours, actually.

 **Daisy:** is that so

 **Jon:** It is. Really, he shouldn’t be staying out after dark of an unfamiliar city; he told me he’s never been to Manchester. If he gets lost, I’ll have to be the one to find him, and I can’t drive the car. 

**Daisy:** im sure he’ll be fine. he’s a big boy isn’t he?

 **Jon:** Hm. 

**Daisy:** you sticking to the hotel room then?

 **Jon:** Yes, I’m going over the materials Elias supplied me concerning the people we’ll be meeting over the weekend. Not much of it is useful, but it’s enough that I can do my own research. 

**Daisy:** getting an idea of what you're up against

 **Jon:** In a manner of speaking. I’d rather know ahead of time as opposed to going in blind. 

**Daisy:** makes sense to me. it’s pretty late though

 **Jon:** Tell that to Martin.

 **Daisy:** i’m telling it to you. maybe YOU should tell it to martin. you have his number, don’t you?

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Jon:** Yes.

 **Daisy:** then text. say you're going to bed soon, if you don’t want to tell him to come back outright. he’ll probably head over.

 **Jon:** Fine. 

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Jon:** You’re right, it is getting late. I apologize for bothering you.

 **Daisy:** shut up, sims

 **Jon:** How was your “date”?

 **Daisy:** same as always. good luck with yours

 **Jon:** It is not a date! This is about as far from a date as I can imagine. 

**Daisy:** dunno, you’re both getting dressed up and going to a party together, sounds like a date to me

 **Jon:** It sounds like you haven’t been on many dates then. 

**Daisy:** touché 

_(Jon is typing…)_

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Jon:** Well, I’m going to text Martin and then try to go to bed, then. Goodnight Daisy.

 **Daisy:** night jon 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Silver for beta-reading; content warnings are in the end notes!

The next day is… boring. Daisy spends most of the morning indoors. She does her stretches and listens to her podcasts of choice, but soon the flat feels grey and static and she has to move around somewhere it won’t feel like pacing. 

Out on the streets, it’s hardly any better. The crowds are full of strangers, and Daisy feels the distance between her and each ill-defined shape of a person that walks past. 

Twice, she think she sees someone familiar. Both times she’s wrong, and glad for it. 

There’s a sort of wanting yet listless feeling in Daisy that’s not appeased by her wandering. She doesn’t know the name of it, only the shape and the sensation. It’s searching each and every window for something to catch her eye, only for her own reflection to be thrown back at her. It’s bumming cigarettes off strangers on the sidewalk, just to have something to do with her hands. It’s staying out for ages, until the light finally begins to disappear behind the gritty London skyline. 

The only points of interest in the long, dull day, are Jon’s texts. 

They’re sporadic, but interesting. The first comes that morning, just before Daisy leaves her flat. 

**Jon:** About to head out to the donor party. 

**Daisy:** break a leg

 **Jon:** That’s not the appropriate thing to say in a situation like this and you know it.

 **Daisy:** and yet i dare to say it anyway. you’re such a theater kid

 **Jon:** What’s wrong with doing theater in your youth?

 **Daisy:** wait were you actually a theater kid?

 **Jon:** I did drama in school, yes. Why did you call me a theater kid if that wasn’t what you meant?

 **Daisy** : nevermind, it doesn’t matter much. it’s just a joke sort of. anyway, how are you two. got a gameplan?

 **Jon:** Not exactly, but I feel more prepared than I did before studying. I gave Martin the highlights and he seemed receptive to the information.

 **Daisy:** sounds good

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Jon:** Just a moment.

Daisy’s out the door and down by the street, debating which direction she wants to go first, when Jon texts again.

 **Jon:** He complimented my outfit!

 **Daisy:** oh really? what are you wearing

 **Daisy:** ;)

 **Jon:** Stop that. 

**Jon:** I’m not wearing anything odd, it’s just a nice suit. Clean shoes. I have a tie.

 **Jon:** It’s one that Elias gave me, actually. I figured now was the time to try it. 

**Daisy:** your boss gave you a tie?

 **Jon:** As a gift after my promotion. 

**Daisy:** hm. kinda weird.

 **Jon:** It’s just a tie, green with gold accents. It looks quite nice honestly. 

**Daisy:** and martin liked the tie?

 **Jon:** He didn’t mention it specifically.

 **Daisy:** and how’s he look

 **Jon:** Fine. His suit is obviously a bit old, but it’s nicer than anything he’s worn to work before, so I believe it will suffice. I just hope he has something different for tomorrow. 

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Jon:** He’s wearing earrings. 

**Daisy:** I noticed he had studs in when I dropped you off.

 **Jon:** Yes, he wears those quite often, even at work. But these are a different sort. The dangling kind. 

**Jon:** They look nice.

_(Daisy is typing…)_

**Jon:** It’s time to go, I’ll talk to you later. 

**Daisy:** good luck

 **Jon:** Thank you!

Hours later, when the shadows are long and Daisy’s wasted day waxes into a cool, ponderous night, Jon texts her again. She doesn’t respond right away, though she notes the vibration of her phone in her back pocket. There’s a thought she’s chasing, something often left to lurk in the back of her mind, and now seems like the time to catch it once again, to dwell, to gnaw at it until the taste grows too bitter to handle. It’s only as the absolute last drags of sunlight have disappeared that Daisy fishes out her phone to see Jon’s messages. 

**Jon:** Martin is absolutely infuriating!

Then, approximately twenty minutes after:

 **Jon:** I’m such an idiot. 

**Jon:** I’m sorry for texting so much. You were right before, Daisy, it isn’t your job to deal with any of my problems. 

Daisy quickly responds after reading.

 **Daisy:** Don’t make a fuss, Jon. I was preoccupied, but I’m here now. 

**Daisy:** What happened?

 **Jon:** The evening was a complete disaster. Or, rather, I ruined it thoroughly. 

**Daisy:** Want to explain?

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Jon:** It was doomed from the start, I could tell. As soon as Martin and I arrived, it felt like every eye was on us, and they were already extremely displeased with what they saw. 

**Jon:** I suspect Elias hadn’t mentioned to the man organizing the get together — Simon Fairchild — that he was not to be attending the function in person. Fairchild was obviously surprised to see us instead of Elias, but took it in stride. Shook our hands. He seemed far too amused, honestly, and I didn’t like the way he looked at us.

 **Jon:** For the most part, it was an incredibly boring several hours. Drab music and fancy but uninventive catering. Lots of old white men and women schmoozing. I had absolutely no idea what to do! Martin and I spoke to Fairchild briefly after officially introducing ourselves, but the man seemed incapable of standing still for more than a minute or two, and soon we were left alone. 

**Jon:** Of course I insisted we split up and try to strike up conversations. Elias was expecting us to /mingle/, not wallflower the whole night. Martin protested the separation, but…  
  
 _(Jon is typing…)_

 **Jon:** I felt like he was only going to drag me down. I was sure I could manage some engaging conversations on my own, without worrying about my awkward assistant at my shoulder. It just made sense to me.

 **Jon:** He fought me on it for a minute, then seemed to get fed up with me and walked off.

 **Jon:** It was awful. I have no idea how to talk to any of these people! They all kept looking at me — no, it was like they were looking /through/ me, like they already knew exactly what to expect from me, and they weren’t interested. I talked to a few people, but it was like pulling teeth. 

**Jon:** So two hours in I’m ready to throw in the towel, when suddenly I look up, and what do I see? Martin across the room, having what looks to be a perfectly amicable conversation with /Peter Lukas/ of all people.

 **Jon:** Peter bloody Lukas, whose family has influence in a ridiculous number of fields, not to mention being the #1 donors to the Institute. And Peter Lukas specifically happens to be Elias’ ex-husband, whom I know Elias likes to keep on good terms despite their (repeated) estrangement. 

**Jon:** Just half-an-hour earlier I’d attempted to engage him in conversation, but was brushed off without so much as a parting word! Yet there was Martin, and Lukas was smiling at him! They spoke for ten entire minutes before Lukas left him alone.

 **Jon:** By then I’d had enough. I figured no one would care if I left the room, and if anyone asked I’d just claim a run to the restroom.

 **Jon:** For lack of anywhere better to go, I did flee to the restrooms. And Martin found me in there.

_(Jon is typing…)_

_(Jon is typing…)_

_(...)_

_(Jon is typing…)_

_(...)_

For ten straight minutes, Daisy watches Jon’s texting bubbles appear, then disappear. After a while she loses patience and calls him.

Honestly, she expects him to decline — she imagines he’s already halfway through another block of text — but he accepts. Daisy brings the receiver up to her ear, staring out at nothing as she speaks, “Jon.”

“I’m sorry.” Jon sounds despondent. It’s not a mood that is wholly unfamiliar to Daisy, though she’s caught slightly off guard by the anguish in his following statement, “I can’t do this, Daisy, I’m pathetic. How do I manage to always ruin these things?”

“Nothing’s ruined,” Daisy tells him firmly. “Jon, where are you right now?” 

“I’m in the hotel room. Martin is… I’m not sure. He left me alone after we were in the restroom.”

“And what happened there, exactly?”

A brief pause. Then Jon admits, his tone tired with defeat, “We argued. We always argue.” 

“Don’t mope, Jon. What did you argue about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jon proclaims. “It’s always the same thing: I get upset, and then everything Martin does bothers me, and I have no self-control so I take it out on him. The only difference is that this time he called me out on it. And he’s right about all of it.”

“He yelled at you?”

“I yelled too. I yelled first.” 

“I’m sure you did,” Daisy agrees, and can’t help but sigh. Jon sighs along with her. “What do I do with you, Jon?”

“Put me out of my misery?” he mutters grimly.

“Sorry, I don’t think so. You’ll have to deal with your own mess.” 

“...Do I have to?”

Daisy doesn’t answer that, only sits in silence with Jon for a while. 

Then, suddenly, he says, “I can hear Martin at the door. I’m- I’ll talk to you later.”

He hangs up before Daisy can say anything else. 

* * *

Later, in her flat, Daisy notices her phone light up with a message just after she’s finished eating a meager dinner. She hastily pulls her hands from the sink to wipe them dry, but when she inspects the screen, it’s not Jon who’s texting her. 

**Em:** hey girl~ you free tomorrow bout 4-ish?? ;j

 **Daisy:** are you seriously asking me over at the last minute again 

**Em:** lol maybe

 **Em:** are you??? pls say yes im SO in need of your attention

 **Em:** who knows what i might do if left unattended for one more day

 **Daisy:** make yourself look a little more desperate and maybe i’ll consider

 **Em:** please plaese PLEASE please pleaseee????? im Begging baby

 **Daisy:** Don’t call me that. what are you expecting from me

 **Em:** our usual games are always so fun ;j why fix what aint broken amiright

 **Em:** does does that mean yes??

 **Daisy:** you’re lucky im free

 **Em:** HELL YES

 **Em:** cant wait to see that sweet ass 

**Daisy:** please try to contain yourself maizy 

**Em:** maizy daisy power hour is my favorite show and it has been too long

 **Em:** haven’t seen you in like two months, whys that?? don’t you like me anymore

 **Daisy:** that implies i’ve ever liked you

 **Em:** YOURE SO MEAN

 **Em:** okay im out see you tomorrow bitch xoxo

Daisy rolls her eyes, tossing her phone onto her bed as she walks into her room. She pulls her shirt off, throwing it somewhere — she’s suddenly very tired, too tired to care about where her laundry lands. Once she’s only in her underwear, she crawls into bed and plugs in her phone. 

“At least I’ve got something to do tomorrow,” she mutters to herself, checking her phone one last time before forcing herself to roll over and go to sleep. 

* * *

There are no texts from Jon the next morning. Daisy chews off two of her nails before realizing what she’s doing, then takes the time to clip the others down. She showers and eats lunch before going to Em’s.

Em, actually named Maizy, is the sub that Daisy has been seeing the longest; Jon’s a close second. She’s not nearly as routine as Serenity, but sessions with Em are consistently less structured than what Daisy does with Jon. They have an established dynamic, but what the dynamic leads to is usually up in the air — and most often up to Daisy. 

When Daisy gets to the flat, Em is already pantsless, wearing just an oversized shirt. 

The first thing Daisy says is, “That’s my shirt.”

“I thought we talked about how it isn’t anymore actually?” Em responds, giving Daisy an easy, relaxed grin. They pull at the hem of the shirt. “I stole this like five billion years ago, dude, you can’t keep complaining about losing it.”

In leu of debating the subject, Daisy just puts a hand on Em’s shoulder and shoves them back into the flat, closing the door behind her as she enters. Em giggles, draping herself over the back of the couch. It’s just enough so that Daisy can see her pale little butt peaking out from beneath the shirt. “So bossy! I didn’t invite you in, you know, this is practically breaking and entering.” 

“You literally called me over here.”

“Oh sure, sure, bring up the facts or whatever.”

Daisy’s already heading for their bedroom. “It better not be a total sty in here.”

“Maybe half a sty.”

“Em…”

“I can clean it!” They follow Daisy, slipping both arms around the taller woman’s middle. “Only if you give me a kiss first.” 

Daisy’s eye twitches. This was going to be a long, long session. “You know I don’t kiss.” 

“You do sometimes.”

“Em.”

“Just a little kiss on the cheek! No mouth kisses, just cheek kisses.”

“Cleaning first.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“ _You_ drive _me_ crazy.” 

“For eighteen-hundred kisses you can buy my silence. Cheek kisses.” 

Daisy, having finally located the strap amidst Em’s cluttered bedroom floor, says as she picks it up, “I’m going to leave in five minutes if you don’t start cleaning.”

At last, Em listens. The next hour follows a similar script, with Daisy fighting every second to get her sub to do anything productive. Em is chatty and seems to have distracting herself (and Daisy) down to an art at this point. 

Em gets their cheek kiss after Daisy can see the bedroom floor. Only one, though, since she immediately starts acting up by refusing to let Daisy hold her down for more than a few seconds. 

The wrestling is a bit fun. Em’s more energetic and wily than Jon tends to be, more willing to put a bit of force behind her stick-like limbs. Sometimes she jams her knee or elbow in some soft part of Daisy, but she hardly ever apologizes for it, and Daisy can appreciate that. Em needs every advantage, after all, to slither out of Daisy’s grapple.

It’s really a matter of tiring them out. In the end, Daisy’s endurance always surpasses Em’s. Soon enough, Em is on their stomach, and Daisy’s fingers are in their cunt.

And so they enjoy an afternoon of each other’s company. After every orgasm, Em is gigglier, more vulgar, and less inclined to escape Daisy’s clutches. Eventually she’s outright begging for it, and impatient during all the time it takes for Daisy to get her strap on and lubricated. 

Daisy fucks them into the bed twice before Em finally taps out. “Can’t feel my legs,” she pants, a dopey grin on her face. “Also, I’m _so_ fucking hungry.” 

“I told you we should have eaten after the second one,” Daisy replies, slipping her gear off. She’d taken off her jeans, but her underwear remained. She can feel she’s just a bit wet — if she wanted to, she could have Em take care of that. But Daisy is hungry, too, and sort of tired; it isn’t worth the trouble. She bends down to pick up her jeans, ignoring Em’s weak attempt at a wolf-whistle. “You got anything?”

“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge,” Em tells her. “Pepperoni.”

“Want it heated up?”

“Nah, just shove that dense cheesy pepperoni cake directly into my mouth.”

“I really do hate most of what you say,” Daisy tells them, and Em wiggles their ass at her before she leaves the room.

While Daisy’s reheating two slices of pizza in the microwave, Em calls from the bedroom, “Hey Daisy, what’s your phone password?”

“Why are you asking?”

“You’re getting texts and I want to snoop.”

Daisy frowns as the microwave dings. “From who?”

“Some guy named Jon? Or girl. Or not-a-girl, I dunno. Jon’s only three letters so I guess they could be non-biney.” 

Daisy quickly grabs her pizza, then the plate of disgustingly cold slices, bringing them swiftly into the bedroom. She trades her phone for Em’s food. They ask, “Who’s Jon?”

Daisy doesn’t answer, instead moving to claim the beanbag chair in the corner of the room. Balancing her plate in her lap and taking a quick bite of pizza, Daisy swipes through her password to open the phone and inspect Jon’s messages. 

**Jon:** I want to apologize for leaving so abruptly. I should have texted you again at some point, but I got rather distracted, and then this morning Martin and I were busy once again. 

**Jon:** However, I want you to know that things are better than they were.

 **Jon:** Much better, actually. 

**Jon:** I also wanted to say thank you for listening to me last night. 

Daisy wipes her greasy fingers on her jeans so she can use both hands to reply. 

**Daisy:** good to hear. can i ask what happened?

 **Jon:** The short answer is that Martin came back and I managed to apologize.

 **Daisy:** really? good on you

 **Jon:** I will admit there was a bit more yelling first. But I did apologize.

 **Daisy:** that sounds more like you. he accepted your apology?

 **Jon:** He did! We talked a bit afterwards. 

_(Jon is typing…)_

_(...)_

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Daisy:** you don’t have to tell me, if it’s private

 **Jon:** Thank you.

 **Jon:** This morning, things were better. And it was /much/ better at today’s function.

“You’re texting them, right?”

Daisy glances up. Em is hanging off the bed a bit, one slice of pizza in hand. The other is on her plate, which is on the floor, which makes Daisy wrinkle her nose a bit. 

When Daisy doesn’t immediately answer, Em only perks up more. “Who are they? Like, uh, what are their pronouns at least?”

“He/him,” Daisy mutters, watching Jon’s text bubble.

“Is he your boyfriend or something? I always figured you’d have a girlfriend if anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“So he’s your friend who is a boy.”

“Sure.”

“Huh…”

Daisy glances back up, lifting one brow. 

Em shoots an incredulous look right back at her. “What, it’s surprising! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you text someone else while you were over, you know? You’ve never talked about that sort of thing either.” 

“Hm.”

Em shoves the last corner of their pizza into their mouth, so Daisy focuses on her phone again, reading Jon’s newest texts.

 **Jon:** It was a smaller, more private gathering, once again hosted by Fairchild. This time the venue was at his house — presumably, one of many.

 **Jon:** It wasn’t as bad as yesterday’s, but Martin and I stuck together this time around, so I believe that’s why the experience wasn’t completely miserable.

 **Daisy:** good to hear. you guys tag-team the shmoozing this time?

 **Jon:** Not for too long. Martin talked to Lukas more, and we chatted with a few others, but then something happened and we decided to leave earlier than we originally planned. 

**Daisy:** what happened

_(Jon is typing…)_

_(...)_

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Jon:** Nothing, really. We just wanted to leave after, so we did. 

**Jon:** It was nice after, we walked around the city for a while. We went to the Manchester Art Gallery! We’re back at the hotel now, packing up to head back tomorrow.

 **Daisy:** hm.

 **Daisy:** well im glad things worked out for you

 **Jon:** Thank you. How has your day been?

 **Daisy:** oh fine. im visiting someone else today

 **Jon:** Really? 

**Daisy:** it was a last minute thing

 **Daisy:** have i told you about em 

**Jon:** I don’t recall the name.

 **Daisy:** it might have been maizy

 **Daisy:** our names are similar, so they go by em instead to keep things simple

 **Jon:** Oh, I see. Like M as in Maizy, but spelled phonetically?

 **Daisy:** yeah. they’re over on the bed and are being very nosey about who i’m texting

 **Jon:** They’re nonbinary?

 **Daisy:** she/they yeah

 **Jon:** Am I the only one of your subs who’s a man?

 **Daisy:** you are nowadays. there was another guy but i stopped seeing him

 **Jon:** Oh, I’m sorry.

 **Daisy:** i’m not. it was fine, don’t worry your pretty little head about it

 **Jon:** If you say so.

 **Daisy:** i do. what time are you two heading out tomorrow?

As they texted, Daisy subconsciously acknowledged Em finishing their pizza and moving out of the room for a while. By the time Jon texts Daisy the time he expects to get home, Em has come back from the bathroom and is finally pulling on some clean underwear. “Still texting your boy friend?”

“Hm.”

“I said it with a space!”

“Yeah. I’m gonna head out, actually.”

“Oh, are you gonna go see him?” Em skips after Daisy as she leaves the bedroom. 

“He’s out of town,” Daisy responds. 

Em has the courtesy to walk ahead of Daisy and open the front door for her. The polite effect is ruined when she adds, “Bet you _wish_ you could see him tonight, though, huh?” She emphasizes her point with a wink.

Daisy makes sure to land a last, solid smack on their little butt on her way out, much to Em’s obvious delight. 

* * *

Jon doesn’t text again by the time Daisy goes to bed. The next morning, after eating breakfast and climbing into her car to go to work, she pulls out her phone. 

For a moment, she just stares at it. Reads through all the texts they’ve sent each other over the weekend, which ends up being way more than she thought. It’s the most she’s ever messaged someone in so short a time. Daisy didn’t even used to text Basira half as much. 

Then again, before, she was usually _with_ Basira. There hadn’t been any reason to call or text, because Basira had been right there. 

Daisy thumbs through her meager contact list. There’s her boss, then two of her coworkers — the only two she’s found she can tolerate; there’s Serenity and Maizy; there’s Jon; there’s Basira.

More than once, Daisy has stopped over Baira’s name, just to look at it. Just to dwell on how it feels familiar to her eyes. It was like suffering the strain of a harsh neon color, then letting her eyes settle on something calm and muted, soothing. Sometimes Daisy makes herself say the name, just to taste it again, and it comes easily, even after all this time. How long has it been, now? A year? The reality of it forces Daisy to close her eyes and sink back into her seat. 

It’s been a while since she read their last conversation. That had been over text, too. It had been brief. Basira had ended it.

 _Fine._ That’s all she’d said, at the very end. Their relationship punctuated with one simple, defeated _Fine._

Daisy thumbs past, forces herself to look at Jon’s name, just Jon, and open his text window. 

**Daisy:** you up yet 

**Jon:** Yes, good morning. We’re about to leave in a few minutes.

_(Daisy is typing…)_

She starts, then stops, then starts and stops again. Daisy stares at the little screen between her hands and thinks about the last few days. 

Then, finally, she texts:

 **Daisy:** Do you want to see each other tonight? I’m off work my usual time. 

She fidgets, wanting to type more, to- to what? To justify herself, to give him leeway, to make her case? She forces herself not to, tosses her phone to the passenger seat and finally starts her car. 

Halfway to work, caught at a light, Daisy lets herself check her phone. 

**Jon:** Yes! You can come over if you like. Martin and I have been given the day off, so I’ll be home early. 

**Daisy:** right. you’ll have to tell me about your trip in person, then

 **Jon:** Of course. 

_(Jon is typing…)_

**Jon:** Martin’s back in the car, we’re headed off now! I’ll text you when I get home.

 **Daisy:** be sure you do. 

**Jon:** See you soon.

Daisy waits until she’s safely parked in the lot of the museum before texting back. 

**Daisy:** yeah, see you 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs:  
> > The second OC, Maizy/"Em" is a bratty sub; she sometimes toes at/gently oversteps pre-established boundaries with Daisy. This is seen as the norm, though, and exists as part of their dynamic   
> > Maizy/"Em" is an afab nonbinary person who uses she/they pronouns; the only terms used for her here are butt and cunt  
> > There is an off-screen argument between Jon and Martin; Jon mentions there was yelling, storming off. Though the two of them work things out, Daisy (and thus, we) are not told how these issues were resolved exactly. So I guess this is a warning for various things being brought up or implied that are never fully explained/given closure.
> 
> In order to properly write this segment, I had to do a relatively detailed outline of Jon and Martin's trip... So, maybe, whenever I find the time, I will be writing Jon's side of the story! We'll have to see, though. 
> 
> Thanks for reading~ Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> CWs:   
> > No on-screen negotiation for the scene Daisy engages in, though the existence of pre-established etiquette/rules for scenes is alluded to.  
> > Daisy and the first OC, Serenity, engage in a scene involving: nun habits, slut-shaming (including the use of 'whore' derogatorily), the rhetoric of 'being dirty/filthy/a sinner' for wearing lingerie (this is my first time writing anything like this, so if you think some other aspect of it needs to be tagged, please let me know!)  
> > Sub-part aftercare(?) It's basically stated that Serenity would prefer no aftercare at all, but Daisy insists on at least a bit of time with Serenity before they part ways


End file.
